


you are the queen and i am the wolf

by vowelinthug



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vowelinthug/pseuds/vowelinthug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They call him John the Giant.</p><p>Flint calls himself James the Early Risk for Heart Failure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something with more plot. I feel like the intelligence of this fandom lends itself to those types of story-driven fics that really make you think, and I wanted to contribute something with meaning and depth.
> 
> But then my brain said: OR YOU COULD WRITE ABOUT JOHN SILVER'S MASSIVE DICK
> 
> (งツ)ว
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm sure this has been done before)  
> (I also have been drinking tonight)

* * *

Flint remained calm about the whole thing until Billy mentioned “Long John Silver.” Flint choked on the rum he’d been steadily drinking since the conversation first started.

Everyone in the room watched him cough for a moment, none of them brave enough to pat him on the back, the bastards.

“What did you call him?” Flint said when he could speak to him.

“Long John Silver?” Billy said, confused. “I figured establishing a nickname to build up the legendary pirate King would suffice until he returned to do it himself.”

Silver had been silent the entirety of Billy laying out the story of the shadow war he created in their absence. He stood behind Flint, just off to the side so he could barely see him out the corner of his eye. It used to make him nervous, Silver at his back. He couldn't pinpoint the moment that feeling went away, where he didn't mind it so much anymore.

Right now, though, he’d give anything to see what expression Silver was making -- some sign of his reaction to this foolhardy plan of Billy’s to turn him into a monster and a king. Did he relish in the idea? Did it cause him dread?

“What does it mean?” Flint said.

Billy shrugged. “It was just something he said, the night he killed Dufresne.”

Flint started to relax, until Billy said, shifting slightly, “And, well. The other thing.”

Behind him he head Silver let out air through his nose -- a snort or a sigh, Flint couldn’t tell. But he didn’t offer up any response.

Which meant Flint had to say, through clenched teeth, “What other thing?”

“ _You_ know,” said Billy, making an abortive hand gesture before quickly saying, “It was Idelle’s idea!”

Flint turned to look at the woman, standing in the corner next to Featherstone. She looked suddenly nervous, having the full focus of Flint’s ire pointed directly at her.

“Well,” she said, “ _you_ know.”

The grinding of Flint’s teeth was audible to everyone in the room.

“His first night in Nassau, the fellas had him up at the house with a few of us for like an initiation?” Idelle said. “There were five of us, but we thought we were gonna have to call in for reinforcements. There was enough to go around, you know.”

Flint knew.

Going to the whores in Nassau, one gets what one pays for. Getting a decent fuck meant giving up your right to privacy regarding what’s hidden inside your trousers. Thanks to those women, everyone knew Old Benjy Cooper’s dick was so small it may as well sit inside his body, or that Ed Parton, formerly of Hornigold’s crew, had three testicles.

And apparently, John Silver had a big cock.

He heard a thump behind him, immediately turned around and saw Silver, leaning against the wall. He was examining his fingernails like an asshole, his face too hidden by shadow to properly tell but Flint could fucking see the smirk in the slope of his shoulders at this point.

He turned back to the rest of the people in the room. Billy, Featherstone, that weird little kid they’d found in the cage on Maroon Island -- all were pointedly looking elsewhere, looking at the ceiling or rifling through papers strew across Flint’s old kitchen table. Only Idelle was looking at him, hand resting on her cocked hip.

“It has, like,” said Idelle, “a double meaning. You know.”

Flint wished he'd never asked.

It haunted him for days.

He’d be counting the stockpile of weapons they’d accrued between the different forces because he didn’t trust anyone else to do it and it was important to account for every bullet when waging a war, and the thought _John Silver has a big cock_ drifted through his head so suddenly he’d stopped, staring at nothing until he refocused, though he’d completely lost track of counting.

He’d be in front of the mirror, idly trimming his beard, when _John Silver has a big cock_. He’d be punching the Governor’s work schedule out of a hapless Redcoat and think, _John Silver has a big cock_. He’d pick up a copy of some Descartes work that was guaranteed to put him to sleep, lie down in bed, until _John Silver has a big cock_ , and he’d throw the book across the room and stay up the rest of the night.

He was beginning to develop a noticeable twitch.

Silver, of course, was taking the whole damn thing in stride. He mostly went about his business as usual -- seeing to the needs of the crew, making sure everyone’s spirit was high, toning down Flint’s more suicidal plans, or turning his simpler ones into even more reckless endeavors. He didn’t bat an eye when anyone suggested to his face or whispered behind his back any comment having to do with a growing list of murders in his name or the length of his manhood. The only explicit thing he had to say about the whole thing was when Billy said maybe it was time Silver began to help build up his own legend by appearing in public or something, to which Silver had replied, “Doing the dirty work doesn’t seem very _kingly_ , does it?”

Despite what people say about him, Flint wasn’t the most prideful man. That wasn’t his sin. He enjoyed being in charge, and the thought of anyone taking that from him filled him with indescribable rage. All Flint wanted was to be in charge of his own course. He never wanted to run Nassau himself, and he didn’t particularly enjoy leading a fleet of unruly pirates like a Navy. He just wanted to be free.

Now as he sat in his own home alone, lost in thought until Silver walked in the door and the thought moved in one singularly persistent direction _again_ \-- he feared he would never be free again.

He stood up when Silver approached the table, who was already talking about something to do with simplifying their current plan of attack so that the majority of the men involved could actually remember what they had to do. It was the middle of the morning, and they were probably the only ones this far inland. Flint had slept roughly and so had a late start to the morning. It occurred to him now he wasn’t entirely too sure where Silver was spending his nights.

He managed to get through a whole conversation with Silver without letting his eyes drop to his crotch _once_. Flint thought he should buy himself something nice.

“There was a fight,” Silver said, “on one of Teach’s ships. Some of his men were apparently perfectly content to have stayed away from this place all this time, and didn’t see the point now in putting up a fight for it. Unfortunately, they’d had a good few minutes of riling up the rest before one of ours took umbrage and argued back, and then of course it went the way all arguments tend to go.”

Silver looked strange, in the bright light of this clean home. Well, cleanish. It had certainly fallen by the wayside without Miranda, but it was a sight different than any of the ships. He looked -- startling. Vivid. Like a painting of a pirate, done in the style of Caravaggio or one of the other greats, hung on a stark stone wall. He was all thick brushstrokes and harsh movements, pigments dipped in blood and gunpowder, crushed animal bones and jewels. Silver had always been this chiaroscuro, though, in some fashion. Always that rich combination of light and shade.

And he had a big cock.

“The insurrection stopped as fast as it started,” Silver continued. He stood close to Flint, even though they were the only ones there. Was it close? It felt close. “Fortunately Rackham was there, and though he tends to fall away from his points as he goes on, by the time the blood was cleared everyone was back on board with the plan, so I suppose it wasn’t a complete cock-up. But I’m afraid the seed’s been planted, and it won’t be long before another confrontation occurs.”

 _Cock_ , Flint heard. _Long_.

Goddamn it. He was trying to fight a _war_ here.

Flint wanted to ask if Silver rode out all this way just to tell him this. He wanted to ask if he was planning on riding back out immediately, and he wanted to ask him not to.

But instead he found himself asking, “Is it true then? The stories about you?”

Silver blinked. Then his face scrunched up and he blinked again. “I’m sorry?”

“The stories. Story. About you.” He was aiming for both casual and angry, but he was pretty sure he was missing the mark on both completely. “ _Long_ John Silver. You know.”

Silver looked like a gaping fish, opening and closing his mouth. He let out a little laugh and said, “Are you seriously asking me about the size of my dick right now?”

Maybe. “Yes,” said Flint. He wanted to look away from Silver but refused to give into the impulse. Which meant he was staring hard at him instead. “We have a lot riding on this legend they’re building up around you.”

Silver gave a short, strangled laugh. “There’s a lot riding on my cock?”

 _Maybe_. “I just want to...make sure,” said Flint.

Silver made the fish face again, but recovered faster this time. He smiled and said, “Are you asking to _see_ it, Captain?”

He was just curious. That’s all it was. He was a pirate, a sailor. The unseen and unknown was always tantalizing.  

There was no answer that wasn’t hugely incriminating, though, so he said nothing, and let his silent stare do the work for him.

Silver huffed, and took a step back, so Flint guessed they had been standing too close. But his hands went to his belt all the same.

“If this is all for the sake of some dick-measuring contest,” said Silver, dropping his gun belt on the table, “rest assured. You’ll always be the biggest dick.”

He unbuttoned his fly, and pulled it out.

Back when, Flint used to tell himself it wasn’t bodies he was attracted to. That was his excuse growing up, confused and upset that he didn’t feel the same way towards women that all the other boys did. He’d felt uncomfortable with the way they spoke about the girls in town, and it wasn’t entirely due to their disrespect. Later, when Miranda and Thomas opened that door to him, he’d told himself it wasn’t the body that got his blood thrumming in the way it never had before. He couldn’t reduce Thomas to just his physical form, not when everything that made him _him_ rested more in his heart and in his mind. These were the things Flint loved, these were the things he wanted -- intelligence, soul, purpose. The pleasure he felt from Thomas’s body were purely secondary, he’d assured himself. He was different than other men, but not _that_ different.

In the years following, he never knew another man, and did his duty to Miranda when she wanted it, but grief overwhelmed his natural instincts. Sometimes. Other times he found himself staring too long at the muscles working in men’s arms, staring too long at Billy’s thighs, Vane’s stomach, Jack’s wrists.

John Silver’s cock.

He had been staring an awful long time.

It lay flaccid in Silver’s hand, but was still longer than Flint’s, resting over the top of his pants. From where his hand stopped Flint guessed there were at least a few more inches uncovered, and it was thick around, a rosy pink contrasting beautifully with Silver’s tanned, cracked knuckles.

He probably should say something, but his tongue felt heavy with the ghost of a missing weight, a longing. His mouth suddenly held too much saliva. He needed.

“--Captain?” The way Silver said it made it sound like he’d said it more than once. “Are you satisfied?” He made like he was about to tuck himself back in and before Flint knew what he was doing he reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

Then he let his fingers drag over the back on his hand until it reached his cock. He ran his fingers over the loose skin, and even with the faintest touch Flint could feel how warm it was. Silver let out a shuddering breath and Flint felt it on his cheek.

Flint was good at reading people. And even if he wasn’t, he’d have to be a complete idiot not to tell Silver was into this. How often would a straight man pull out his dick just because another man (whom he knew for a fact was _not_ straight) asked him to?

Still, even though he felt it may kill him, he had to say, “You can tell me -- if you don’t want --”

“ _Please_ ,” said Silver, his hand clutching Flint’s now, as though he were pulling away. “God, Captain, yes, I--”

Flint didn’t cut him off. Instead he dropped to his knees. Silver choked on his words, along with what sounded like his tongue.

“Holy _shit_ ,” said Silver, looking down at Flint with unrestrained awe.

Flint’s hand replaced Silver’s at the base of his cock. It was halfway hard now, maybe. And evidently, he was a grower.

He used his other hand to pull at the soft skin around his cock, dragging the foreskin away from the head, then pushing it back over. He did it again, harder. He left his thumb trail around the tip of his cock, teasing under the hood in a way that made Silver leak in front of him and moan above him. Pre-come covered his thumb and he brought it to his mouth to taste.

“Christ, Captain,” Silver breathed. His hands gripped tight on Flint’s shoulders. “Fucking _Christ_.”

Flint let go of Silver for a moment -- felt like he literally had to pry his fingers off one at a time, he was so reluctant -- to tear his shirt off his head. He was too warm and he wanted to make sure Silver understood what was going on here.

Judging by the way Silver began tearing at his own jacket and shirt, eyes never leaving Flint’s heaving chest, Flint figured they were on the same page.

Silver was all the way hard now, his cock probably nine inches long. Flint grabbed him by the base again, squeezing lightly and enjoying the way Silver groaned, hands roaming down Flint’s head and back.

Flint traced the hard outline of veins along the side of Silver’s cock and sucked the head in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the slit and chasing after that salt taste. His mouth was already stretched wide but he wanted to go deeper -- _needed_ it. He slowly went further down, let his tongue writhe under the heaviness. He looked up at Silver, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard.

“Oh my god,” Silver said, his face shocked and stupid, like he didn’t believe anything that was happening. “Captain, I -- oh God. _Fuck_. Is this why...you’ve been so fucking miserable these last couple days? You just wanted to suck my cock? _God_ , you’re doing it so _good_ , Captain. This is all you wanted?”

Flint obviously couldn’t answer so he just groaned around his cock, his eyes falling shut as he tried to go deeper. His jaw was already aching and breathing was difficult but this was what he’d been thinking about for _days_ , the first cock not his own he’d allowed himself to enjoy in ten years, and he didn’t want to waste a second of it with something so trivial as breathing.

He reached back and began massaging Silver’s balls, which by touch alone seemed to be proportionate to the rest of him. He let just the faintest hint of teeth graze the underside vein and Silver bucked hard, suddenly choking Flint who pulled back with a gasp.

“Sorry,” said Silver quickly, panting. “I’m sorry, fuck, please -- “

But Flint wasn’t allowed to let himself be bested any cock, certainly not John Silver’s cock. He wasn’t a prideful man but he liked to be in charge, and he decided the moment Silver reached for his fly that this was _his_. He would have this, he would have Silver. And he needed to be the best at everything he set his mind to, whether it was reading or piracy or cocksucking.

So he kissed the underside of Silver’s cock gently, accepting his apology, then swallowed it down again. He could only get it as far as his hand around the base before it touched the back of his throat and he felt himself start to gag, and only then did he pull back just slightly. His eyes were watering and he was breathing hard through his nose, moaning continuously around Silver’s length as he started moving his head up and down. He started slow but sped up quickly, massaging his balls and the rest of his cock he couldn’t fit in his mouth.

He tried to keep eye contact with Silver, but was afraid the obvious bliss he felt would be too visible on his face, so he let them drift shut. Then he was lost in the thickness of Silver - oblivious to anything except his scent and taste, the obscene sound of sucking loud in his ears, the long stream of curses and praises and filth spewing from Silver’s mouth, calling him the most beautiful fucking cocksucker he’d ever seen.

Flint felt his own cock straining against his pants and his hips moved on their own, looking for something to rub against but he had no desire to take his hands off Silver anytime soon.

The hands clutching at Flint’s shoulders suddenly grabbed his head and stopped his motion right at the tip of his cock. Flint opened his eyes and looked at Silver, who was breathing harder than he did when he was fighting through the pain of his leg. Silver raised an eyebrow in question.

Flint nodded, relaxed his throat, and this time kept looking at Silver as he started to fuck Flint’s mouth.

The hand he held at the base of Silver’s cock kept him from going too deep and hurting him, but going just the right depth to make his eyes water and nose stream. He face felt flushed and he didn’t feel like he was breathing at all. It was like he’d been dead all these years, waiting, and was now finally in heaven. He was in heaven, and he sucked the best that he could.

“Yes, Captain, _yes,_ ” Silver was saying, matching his thrusts to the futile ones Flint was doing with his own hips. “You could do this all fucking day, couldn’t you? Just on your knees all day, ready for me to feed you my cock. Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, you think you could take it all? One day I bet you could suck it all down and you’d fucking _love it_ , Jesus motherfucking Christ, your mouth is so warm. I can’t wait to feel how hot and tight your ass is. Could you take it all, sweetheart? I think you could.”

Flint groaned again, managing only the faintest of nods with the grip on his head. Silver saw it anyway because the rhythm of his hips broke as he gave a shattered cry.

“God, Captain, I’m coming, I --”

Flint let go of Silver’s cock to grab his hips, keep him from pulling back. He needed to taste it, and when Silver groaned and spilled all down the back of his throat, Flint was grateful he was prevented from saying anything because all he could think was _more, more, more_.

It felt like he was coming forever. When it seemed like he finally stopped, he let go of Silver’s hips and Silver took a step back on his good leg.

And then Silver came _again_ , all over Flint’s face, neck, and chest.

Flint sat on his knees, eyes closed. He hadn’t even orgasmed yet but he felt satisfied in a way he never had before, feeling Silver’s come dripping down his chest, from his mouth and his goddamn eyelashes. He felt like a wild, starving, crazed beast. He needed _more_.

“Captain?”

Flint palmed his cock through his pants and let his breath come back. Without opening his eyes he said, “You don’t think there’ll be anymore infighting today?”

A pause above him. “No, I shouldn’t think so.”

Flint nodded. “And all the men are aware of their roles for this evening?”

“When I left Rackham and Teach were going over it a fifth time with them.”

“And the arsenal is accounted for?”

“I left our best men responsible for guarding it.”

“So there’s really nothing much for us to do today until nightfall.”

Another pause. “No, Captain. Nothing much.”

Flint opened his eyes. Silver's eyes sparkled, the light against the shadow that made up the rest of him. His cock wasn’t even soft yet.

He got up of the ground on unsteady legs. Silver’s hand reached for his elbow. Flint’s hand reached for his cock.

As he led him by it into the bedroom, Flint said, “I can’t believe it’s still hard. This explains so much about your personality. ”

Silver smiled cheerfully, pushing Flint down onto the bed. “Long live the King,” he said.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flint's in for a rude awakening. 
> 
> Sorry, that meant to say nude** 
> 
> (porn coda to the other porn I wrote a couple days ago, what the hell)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Silver's Massive Dick Part II: the butt stuff
> 
> So a few of you noticed, and I myself noticed once I'd sobered up, that the first part of this ends a little abruptly. Don't blame me, blame the hard liquor.
> 
> Although I wrote a good portion of this part on some heavy duty nighttime cold medicine. So.  
> [finger-guns my way out]

* * *

 

When Flint awoke he was laying on his side facing the window. Afternoon light warmed his pillow and cotton sheet. The rock that usually sat just beneath his ribs, compressing each breath -- was gone, and he felt more rested in the couple hours of sleep he just got than in the past ten years, perhaps. He blinked at the blue sky, unsure what it was that even woke him up.

Then Silver clued him in by adding a second finger.

“You’re finally awake,” Silver murmured into his ear. “I was running out of ways to occupy myself.”

"You mean,” Flint groaned into his pillow, “you’ve run out of my personal possessions to rifle through.”

Silver hummed in agreement, his whole body curved into Flint’s body like quotation marks -- starting a sentence and Flint didn’t know how it ended. “You’re still so wet, Captain. I could just slip right inside you.” He didn’t though, content to just move his two fingers in and out of Flint’s dripping asshole at a maddening pace.

Flint cursed, his hands gripping the sheet in front of him even as he stretched his legs wider.

Apparently, the rock that had been smothering him, crushing him -- the accumulation of a decade of guilt, rage, and sorrow -- was easily dislodged by an afternoon getting fucked by John Silver.

That. Actually, that was a little embarrassing.

“I think you’re more freckles than skin,” Silver said into Flint’s shoulder. _Now_ he added the third finger. It glided in with the others easily. Flint still felt loose with oil and come and oh yeah, Silver’s massive cock which had stretched him open for a better part of the day.

Silver was _insatiable_. Flint never knew him to indulge in the company of a whore when they made land, but honestly -- even if he’d had his share of the Urca gold he probably wouldn’t have been able to afford all the time he needed from one.

Not that Flint minded. He himself had already come twice today. He was making up for lost time, it felt like.

Though a little _warning_ might have been nice.

He opened his legs wider, his foot hooking gently around Silver’s left leg. He started working himself back onto Silver’s fingers, matching Silver’s easy rhythm.

He could feel Silver behind him shifting, and out the corner of heavy-lidded eyes he could see Silver propped up on one elbow, looking down at his face with a mixture of joy and disbelief.

“Christ, I thought you looked that blissful before because you were _asleep_ ,” he said. “You don’t even look like a pirate anymore. Do you think if I fuck you hard enough you’ll forget all about retaking Nassau?” He curled his fingers inside Flint, as though reaching for the answer.

“Who’s Nassau?” Flint turned his head and caught Silver’s mouth with his own. Did they do this before? He couldn’t remember. He remembered kissing Silver’s glorious cock for the first time, will probably be able to recall every detail of it on his deathbed, but this felt entirely new. He felt he would remember this, too -- the way Silver’s brow furrowed, desperate to keep hold, and the taste of his tongue, undiluted with any other flavors besides their combination of sweat and come. Neither had taken the time to get any sustenance throughout the day, and Flint’s body felt carved out, cleansed, holy -- empty of everything except Silver’s fingers.

Silver broke away, breathing hard. He looked down at where his fingers were plunging into Flint’s asshole, definitely speeding up during the kiss. He looked mesmerized, and began bending and stretching his fingers wide. Flint could feel the tip of that beautiful cock pressing wetly at the base of his spine.

“Do you know,” Silver said distractedly, “I think you could probably take my whole fist right now.”

" _Fuck_ ,” said Flint, his cock jerking wetly. He felt so close to the edge and he hadn’t even touched it yet. “Let me remind you that I have to be on horseback later tonight.”

Silver sighed, disappointed. “Fine. But don’t pretend it’s not because you’re not obsessed with my cock.”

Flint bit down on his tongue, both to quell the agreement (because it was becoming worryingly clear he could agree to anything Silver said like this) and also because Silver began teasing a fourth finger near his entrance.  

“Go _on_ ,” Flint said, reaching around to grip Silver’s ass, blindly pulling him closer. “Fuck me already, c’mon.”

“You’re _insatiable_ , Captain.” But Silver’s fingers were gone immediately, and then he felt the heavenly bluntness pressing into him. Inch by inch Silver pushed inside him, his hips rocking forward gradually as Flint accommodated his size.

Flint panted heavily, his breaths short and loud, until Silver’s wet fingers trailed up Flint’s side and abs making him twitch, and rested right over Flint’s racing heart. He held him there, a different kind of weight, until he was -- finally -- all the way inside. He stilled.

“We’ll go slowly,” said Silver quietly, his forehead resting against the nape of Flint’s neck. “Must think of tonight’s ride.”

Flint wanted to think of something smart to say, something cutting. But his mind and his tongue and his skin and his nerves were melting away in the heat of the afternoon sun spread out over them, like a wild, eternal fire -- catching on everything, turning him into nothing but smoke and even more flames. It burned all coherency out of him save for one word, which he said now.

“ _Please_.”

Silver's hips shifted upward, slow but hard, deep. Then he did it again, and again. And again. Every movement was pointed -- purposeful -- intent to be felt. He couldn't pull all the way of Flint, or even halfway. Not with the grip Flint kept on his ass, holding him as close as possible. Then Silver got one hand on the inside of his thigh and pulled his legs open wider, somehow getting that thick cock even deeper.

Flint groaned, incomprehensible noises intended to be curses and pleas and oaths. At some point today he thought he might have promised Silver his ship, his weight in gold, his goddamn _jacket_ if it meant that Silver wouldn't stop. On some level Flint knew as soon as Silver dropped trou for him Flint would do whatever  the man asked, because making impromptu, libido-fueled decisions was kind of his raison d'etre.

Although, holy shit did they sometimes yield positive results.

"Jesus," said Silver, his voice raw. "Fuck, you look so good like this. You were made for this, Captain."

Flint whined, exposing his neck to Silver's teeth. He felt so full, so wonderfully stretched. It had taken some time earlier to get him ready and get used to the sensation of Silver's huge cock dragging along the nerves inside him but God, how perfect a fit.

They moved together, every time Silver pulled back at that achingly slow pace Flint was right there to follow. They moved like steady waves or like the wings of a massive bird -- a chaotic kind of grace.

Silver's lips trailed upwards to mouth at the spot behind Flint's ear, his breath wet and loud. “You’ve done so well today, Captain, but I think you can come one more time,” he said. “Can you do that for me, beautiful? Touch yourself, please, you can do it.”

Flint bit down on his bottom lip to try and stop whatever nonsense he was threatening to say, and he could taste blood. It took him a couple tries to finally uncurl his fingers from the bed sheet, then he shifted his shoulders so he could reach down and grab his cock. Now he couldn’t help but cry out, his cock still overly sensitive from before. It felt flushed and red-hot in his hand, and he couldn’t do anything but lightly rub it a few times before he came all over himself.

Silver moaned, watching him, his fingers digging sharply into Flint’s inner thigh.

“Captain, I still need --” he panted. “Please, I have to -- Can I--”

Boneless, aching, Flint rolled onto his stomach, uncaring of the wet spot he just made. He kept his legs open, Silver’s cock still inside him.

He turned his head, looked at Silver with one dazed eye. “Go on,” he said.

Silver leaned up, pushing all the way back inside Flint. His hands gripped Flint’s waist, but still he went slow and deep, each thrust filled with intent. The whole time he alternated between groaning Flint’s name, the Lord’s name, or pleading his thanks.

Flint lay there, content in ways he had not known possible anymore. The desire to be held still, used and fucked and full, went further back beyond any rational part of his mind and down into the very fabric of himself. He felt focused in the way he only felt when he fought for his life, and all he could do was squeeze down on Silver’s cock hard until he came with a startled shout.

Silver half-collapsed on him, knocking what little wind there was still left inside them out. After a moment, using both hands, he gently pulled himself out. Flint, mourning the loss, rolled onto his side to face Silver.

They looked each other over, neither quite ready to meet the other’s eyes. They were filthy, both covered in bites and bruises, and smelled quite distinctly of an afternoon spent fucking. There was no way either of them could take a bath before riding out. They’d be going into battle like this.

Flint closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Now that he no longer had a cock inside him he could think of a million different reasons why this had been a poor decision.

The number one reason opened his mouth and said, “Are you --”

“Yes.”

“Do we have time --”

“ _No_.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“We don’t have time for _anything_ ,” said Flint, opening his eyes. He looked at Silver. His hair was a disaster, and his face looked unusually pink, which made his eyes look even more stupidly blue. “Christ. What a bad idea.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flashed across Silver’s face. “So that was the last time, then?”

“Fuck that,” Flint said, looking down. “I’m never letting you go now.”

A pause, then Silver asked, “I’m sorry. Are you speaking to me, or to my cock?”

“Shhh. I don’t recall inviting you into this conversation.”

“I think I should feel insulted.” But he was smiling. 

“Well, when God takes with one hand, his gives with another.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a shit,” said Flint, “with a fucking beautiful cock.” He reached down to pet it in jest.

Silver’s back stiffened. “Fuck, Captain. Stop -- don’t ---”

Flint stared in disbelief as Silver’s cock began to harden slightly beneath his fingertips.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“It’s not my fault!” Silver moaned. “What the hell were you thinking, touching it like that?”

Flint exhaled sharply. “I’m going to go start a war.” He was well-fucked, his blood singing, and he found in himself the strength to conquer nations, but not the strength to deal with John Silver and his goddamn cock.  

He rolled out of bed, still feeling shaky and loose. Silver looked up at him with a pathetic expression, so Flint grabbed the back of his hair and tugged him towards his mouth. He kissed him once, quick and hard, Silver opening for him instantly. Then he kissed him again on his forehead and let him go. Silver looked dazed, and his cock lay on his stomach, wet and hard.

“When you’re ready,” Flint said, “feel free to join me.”

Come was dripping down his legs as he walked naked towards the door. From the sounds he made watching him go, Silver had noticed it too.

“Okay,” he said as Flint left the room. “I’ll just...be here then.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy gets scarred for life, loses a bet, and I hallucinate context for that [s4 still](https://pmcdeadline2.files.wordpress.com/2016/07/black-sails-season-4.jpg) because idek what's really going on there.
> 
> And then sex.
> 
> the third and FINAL chapter of the "john silver has a big dick and it breaks flint's brain" saga

* * *

Billy stared at the door to the Barlow home, puzzled. It was locked.

It was never locked when Flint was there. Anyone who meant to do him harm, according to Flint, wouldn’t be deterred by a locked door. Which was a particular kind of Flint-logic that was a combination of his fatalist attitude and his overconfidence.

But the door was locked now. Billy looked in one of the windows but couldn’t see anyone in the main room. There were still two horses tied up front, he recognized as Silver’s and Flint’s. Silver had rode off hours ago to inform the Captain about the altercation which occurred on Teach’s ship that morning. He had yet to return.

Perhaps one of them had snapped and killed the other. Or maybe they did each other in. Billy wasn’t entirely sure how he’d feel about that. He had the horrifying suspicion both men viewed Billy as his own successor, fully responsible for taking over in the war against England.

Billy banged on the door harder. If they were dead he was going to kill them both.

Finally he heard a shuffling inside, and he took a step back as the door opened only halfway.

Silver stood there, annoyed. Also -- naked. He was sweaty and disheveled and wearing only a thin white sheet around his waist, gripped tightly in one hand.

They stared at each other. Silver clearly expected Billy to say something, to just _talk_ as though nothing was wrong with this picture. For the moment, Billy had absolutely no words.

Finally, Silver said, “Did you need something, Billy?” He had love bites peppering his chest and his neck. _Love bites._

"Where’s Flint?” What the fuck. Billy had no idea why he asked that, because he had absolutely no desire to see Captain Flint at this moment in time, or maybe ever again.

Silver smirked, and leaned on the door frame. “Resting, for the moment. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Um.” He couldn’t remember why he’d come inland. Something to do with gruesome violence, possibly? That was, in fact, something Silver could help him with. Use his peg leg to smash his skull in like Dufresne’s until he forgot he ever saw a nude Silver in Flint’s nice sheets.

“You were supposed to tell the Captain about Teach’s men,” said Billy. And _that’s all_ , he didn’t say. “How did he take the news?”

Silver looked upward, as though trying to remember. “Oh, I think he took it well, actually.” He smiled at Billy like a well-fed shark. “Yes, he _took_ it very well.”

Instantly, Billy knew this was _all his fault._  Silver’s fucking nickname, mentioning Idelle’s input. It was meant to strike fear into the English but be a _joke_ among their men. Because of course a reckless, impossible son of a bitch like John Silver had to have a big set of balls on him. It’s _funny._

But Flint had seemed especially ornery the last couple days, since they’d arrived back in Nassau and Billy filled them in on everything. Ornery and distracted. And he wouldn’t have been so fucking clueless about the meaning of “long” if _this_ was happening already.

It was a lot to take in.

No pun intended.

Goddamn it.

A good half the men believed this had been going on for ages now anyway. Several pockets were going to be emptied as bets when this came to light.

And judging by the expression on Silver’s face, there was no way this will be kept quiet for long.

He sighed deeply. He rubbed his forehead hard like it would wipe the last five minutes from his life. He sighed again when it didn't.

Silver scratched his belly absently and kindly waited while Billy’s reality shifted around him.

It occurred to Billy, eventually, that this would only directly affect him if it ended badly, and the same could be said for when they were just partners running the ship. They were a lot like Rackham and Bonny in that regard, and now the differences between the two were even less. The only way this relationship would ever end is if they kill each other or someone else did it for them. Whether or not they were fucking really didn’t change much else.

Except now he owed Joji ten pounds.

Billy sighed one more time for good measure and was finally able to look at Silver again.

“Back with us?” Silver said, because even though he had grown into a more respectful and fearsome pirate these last few months, he was still an asshole.

“You’ll still be joining us for the first assault?” Billy said through gritted teeth. “Both of you?”

“Of course.” Silver managed to look affronted while still scratching dried come off his stomach. “We’ll be at the jetty by sundown.”

“Right.” Billy took one step backwards off the porch. There were only a couple hours left until then.  “And until then you’ll be--”

“Here.” The grip on Silver’s bedsheet loosened threateningly. “Unless there’s anything you need from us in the meantime?”

“No! Nothing.” Billy was already to his horse. “You two will be here and I will not be here. Ever again.”

"Thank you, Billy,” said Silver, beginning to close the door. “As always, you’ve been a tremendous help.”

Billy rode back quickly, thinking of -- absolutely nothing.

They’d made their camp on the other side of the island, in a rocky cove practically invisible from most vantage points. There was no tactical reason for British ships to patrol this area of the island only occasionally, and by the time they were due to make their way over here again, the battle would be well underway.

As Billy approached, he was suddenly struck by the fact that he had no way of not telling everyone the truth. If he kept it a secret, it was Singleton and that damned blank piece of paper all over again. Keeping their confidence without really knowing why, or knowing the outcome. Of course, if they ended up not even trying to hide their relationship, then Billy keeping it a secret looks -- weird? Like he’s embarrassed?

Billy has never given Silver any kind of satisfaction with anything before and he had no intention of doing so.

Rackham was standing nearby with a few of the men. He turned when Billy dismounted, looking around.

“Where are Flint and Silver?”

Billy took a deep breath. “They’re occupied for the rest of the day,” he said, leading his horse to a nearby bucket of water. It didn’t drink. “They’ll be joining us later this afternoon.”

There was a telling silence.

Rackham looked suspicious. “What are they doing? Planning something new? We should really be involved then.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

Featherstone looked confused. “What, were they fighting over something?”

“No,” said Billy. The horse was still not drinking. “Didn’t look like they were fighting.”

The silence got even more telling.

Suddenly there was a cough behind him. Joji stood there, a smirk on his face. He held out his hand, waiting.

Billy sighed for perhaps the hundredth time that day, and reached for his purse.

\-----

It’s a good thing Billy clued everyone in to this latest paradigm shift, because otherwise the next few days would have been very confusing for everyone.

Silver and Flint weren’t acting any different towards each other, not really. They didn’t touch, and thankfully Billy had yet to interrupt anything again. They stood close to each other when they spoke, but they sort of did that before anyway.

But it was still obvious. Flint was marginally more genial than usual, actually listening to other people’s suggestions and never biting anyone’s head off for them. Degroot in particular was in heaven, being allowed to make certain ship maintenance he’d been angling for forever. Billy assumed Flint’s change in attitude was what happened when a man like Flint got to have regular sex and regular fighting on a daily basis.

Billy also would catch him staring at Silver with a disturbing expression, or staring off into space only to re-focus suddenly and aggressively, usually before leading them into a fight.

For Silver’s part, he was markedly less tense than he’d been since first becoming Quartermaster. He wasn’t as cocksure as he’d been when first joining the crew, because he still took his responsibilities to the men very seriously, but the tightness around his eyes and mouth had all but vanished, and he walked with an ease that had been missing since he lost the leg.

And he was definitely regressing into the asshole he’d been before. One morning, Flint had approached the camp from the jetty with a slight limp. Billy had, with an air of desperation, assumed it had been an injury from the fight the previous night, if Silver hadn’t immediately caught Billy’s eye, and _winked._

Billy cannot believe he ever actually encouraged this.

No one needed to actually catch them fucking, however, because it couldn’t be more blatant than when they were fighting.

Their siege against the British had been limited to the land, and it truly felt like they were fighting a war -- unfamiliar ground for most of the pirates. The battles were bloody and fast, though, just like a good hunt. But Billy couldn’t tell one way or another whether they were actually winning this thing. Every day there seemed to be more British officers to kill.

Silver, unable to be left out of the fight by both his own design and Billy’s, had become quite the shot and had taken to wearing holsters that held up to six pistols. Billy had never thought him to be much of a fighter, but he had to admit he’d never seen anyone reload a gun as fast as he could.

Flint never strayed from Silver’s back during the battle, a sword in each hand. He’d cut down two men while Silver reloaded, stepped aside to let Silver gun down two more, and repeat. Their body count was the highest of all the pirates (because of course, everyone was counting), and together they were monstrous and terrifying and really fucking obvious.

The moment Billy guessed they were finally done attempting to be subtle was when the small regiment of British soldiers ambushed their camp.

Billy didn’t know if they were just foolishly overconfident, or had seriously misjudged the pirates’ numbers. In either case the fight was brutal and very, very short. Most of the British soldiers were left for dead in the sand, and they ended up with three of the highest ranking surviving men tied up before them: two warrant officers and a petty officer.

They all stood in front of the British, a collective, dirty force of nature. Someone had grabbed Silver’s crutch for him, which he’d been less shy about using in front of the men suddenly. Billy attributed it to, well -- _everything_ , but try as he might, he couldn’t feel anything but grateful that Silver wasn’t putting himself through unnecessary strain for the sake of appearances. Not that he'd tell Silver this ever.

This fight was actually fortuitous. They’d been discussing sending an actual verbal message to the Governor, rather than just more bloodshed. Between Flint, Silver, Rackham, and Billy they had manage to come up with an incredibly elegant and threatening ultimatum: get the fuck off our island, or we’ll start to get really mad.

However, Flint was only halfway into delivering his well-crafted and choreographed speech when one of the warrant officers spat at him, hitting Flint’s boot.

Flint stopped speaking, looking comically appalled for a moment. Before he could react in any way, there was a gunshot, loud and enveloping everyone on the beach. The warrant officer slumped over, the newly formed hole in his chest bleeding sluggishly onto the sand.

Flint, along with Billy, along with the rest of the pirates, turned to look at Silver. His hand wasn’t even outstretched anymore, but the gun in it was still smoking. He had a look on his face. It wasn’t the pained, flinching expression of knowing two possible starving thieves had to die. It wasn’t the coy, sly face of a man trying to outsmart everyone at once.

It was a face Billy had only seen once, in a dimly lit tavern, the sound of steel slamming through soft flesh to thud on the wood beneath it ringing loud into the night. It was the face of Long John Silver.

Billy was familiar with it. Some of the other men on the beach were, too. Flint had never seen it before. And judging by _Flint’s_ expression as he approached Silver, Billy was afraid he was about to witness something even more shocking.

But Flint just moved beside him and _stared._  He looked surprised, awed -- heated. It was a private expression, one Billy didn’t feel at all comfortable witnessing, but it wasn’t his fucking fault Captain Flint was choosing to look like that in front of twenty other people.

Fortunately, the second warrant officer said, “You motherfucker!”

Silver and Flint stopped gazing at each other and looked in unison at the kneeling man. The petty officer beside him shifted slightly away. The warrant officer was red-faced, breathing heavily, near-tears, and spattered with the blood of his fallen comrade.

“Did you have something to add?” Silver asked. He holstered the empty gun he was still holding.

“You motherfucker,” the warrant officer said again, raging, his hands twisting around the manacles on his wrists. “I’m going to fucking destroy you! The second you let me out of here, you fucking _cripple_ , I’m going to tear the rest of your fucking limbs off and watch you choke on your own fucking blood!”

Silver nodded. “Okay,” he said. Then he calmly reached for another gun and shot the second warrant officer in the head.

The bullet must have him the man at a peculiar angle, because his head positively exploded out the back. Billy caught Flint and Silver watching the man fall backwards with twin grimaces, and was struck by how similar they looked at this moment, how fearsome.

When he’d cast his vote for Silver to be their new Quartermaster, he’d done with it the belief that Silver might have been the one man capable to pulling Flint away from the edge of his madness. Silver, at the very least, would be concerned enough for his own well-being in any given situation to fight Flint on any future life-threatening endeavors.

It hadn’t occurred to him that Silver ran deeper than he first appeared, that he was just as close to that edge as Flint was, and rather than taming Flint, together they were fanning the flames of each other’s evil until it consumed everyone around them. Standing there together, they looked to Billy like one otherworldly beast. A Leviathan with two heads and too many weapons.

It’s possible Billy had miscalculated this whole thing. Though to be fair, he hadn’t factored any _fucking_ into the situation.

Silver holstered his second smoking gun. He still had three more loaded ones on him. He looked to the petty officer, still kneeling and bloody beside his two superior officers.

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” Silver said.

The petty officer blinked. He looked down at the man next to him, who no longer had a good portion of his head, for only a second before saying, “Would you mind terribly repeating the message to me again? Perhaps I could write it down for you.”

Silver smiled indulgently at the officer.

Flint just kept looking at Silver, that same private expression on his face, even as he said, “Billy. Write the message up to send with the officer.” Then he added, “You have the nicest penmanship.”

Billy didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

Flint continued, “I have a personal matter to discuss with Mr. Silver. We’ll be back on the ship for the remainder of the day. If you’ll excuse us.”

He then _touched_ Silver. He only grabbed his elbow, pulling him along to where the longboats were docked. There was a noticeable intake of breath among the pirates, although it seemed Flint was too distracted to hear it.

Silver heard it, but he went along with Flint anyway. As he passed, he shrugged, shot Billy a look, eyebrows raised, as though saying, “What are ya gonna do?”

Billy knew what _he_ was going to do. He was going to get two pieces of parchment, nicely write their ultimatum to hand to the Governor, and then start planning his escape route.

He hated the British, true. But he honestly didn’t think this was that much better.

As he walked away, he heard Bonny smack Rackham in the arm and say, “Why the fuck don’t you look at me that way after I kill someone for you?”

“I used to, darling, don’t you remember?” Rackham said. “If I recall correctly, your exact response was, ‘Keep that the fuck up and it’ll be you next.’”

“Oh, right.” Bonny snorted, shaking her head. “Fuckin’ disgusting.”

Billy needed to _leave_.

 

* * *

 

Flint took a moment to fully appreciate the view in front of him, commit every detail to memory, before pushing all the way back inside Silver.

Silver whined deep in the back of his throat, his head thrown back against the bed. Fading afternoon light streamed through the open windows of the ship’s cabin. Flint had to keep one foot on the floor in order to maintain leverage, but still the wooden frame of the bed banged loudly against the ship walls.

Flint didn’t care. There was only a skeleton crew aboard the _Walrus_ , and normally he’d take care to keep the noise level down, but he was too consumed by the heat of Silver around him to care. He was pretty sure no one knew about them, however.

They were giving Flint’s ass a break from Silver’s cock. Besides, sometimes it was nice to just look at it. It was beautiful, thick and veined, dragging wetly against Silver’s stomach with every thrust.

Silver had nothing to say about the noise level, just writhed back onto Flint’s cock, squeezing around him tightly.

Of course, he might have had something to say about it. But the gag Flint had wrapped around his mouth the minute they’d set foot into the cabin kind of put of stop to that.

Oh sure, Silver could still make noise. Every groan and whimper was perfectly audible, but he couldn’t form any words which was the real torture for him.

It was, after all, supposed to be a punishment for this afternoon’s actions with the British officers. Silver had glared at Flint silently even as he was forcibly undressing him, chewing wetly on the scarf he’d used for the gag. Flint didn’t know exactly when he’d gotten so good at reading Silver’s facial expression, but he knew Silver’s glare to mean, _Is this really because now I have the higher body count?_

Flint had bitten Silver’s nipple as his own reply: _Yes._  Dammit, Flint had been _winning._

Not that there were any losers right now (except for the British). Even though Flint loved the shit that came out of Silver’s mouth when they were fucking, the sight of him split on Flint’s cock, gagged and helpless, was like out of a dream he’d been having since they fucking _met._

Silver reached out to jerk his cock, and Flint was suddenly struck by absurd possessiveness. He grabbed Silver’s wrists and pinned them down to his chest. The action caused Flint to lean over Silver, driving deeper inside him as Silver’s cock sat trapped between them. Silver bucked with a muffled scream, trying to get any kind of friction.

“You don’t need your hands,” Flint murmured, his face close to Silver’s now. He let his lips drag against the gag and nearly died at Silver’s soft moan. “C’mon, you can come just from my cock, can’t you, sweetheart? I know you can do it, Silver, I want to see it, _please._ ”

Silver said something behind his gag, his eyes black and heavy and locked on Flint’s. Flint’s hips faltered for a moment, feeling overexposed, caught, unable to look away until Silver’s eyelids fluttered closed and started fucking back in earnest.

“Fuck,” Flint groaned, pressing his forehead to Silver’s and squeezing his wrists a little too hard. “Oh Christ, you look so good, you _feel_ so good, fuck.”

Silver came with another long whine, it shooting upwards towards their faces, come all over their chests and in their beard. But it wasn’t until a drop landing on Flint’s lips, until his tongue immediately licked it up and that salt taste filled his mouth did he finally come too.

Flint gave himself a moment to rest on Silver’s shoulder, boneless, until Silver gave another low moan. He was, of course, still hard. But at least now Flint knew to expect that, and he was more than willing to accommodate. He uncurled his fingers from his wrists and pulled his cock free slowly.

Silver shifted up so that he was sitting at the top of the bed, leaning on the wall of the cabin, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. His cock was dripping wet, angry looking against Silver’s heaving stomach.

“You can take that off, you know,” he said, gesturing to the gag.

Silver raised an eyebrow but made no move to remove it. His eyebrow clearly said he was aware of how much Flint enjoyed it.

Flint shuffled down to the end of the bed, then knelt down towards Silver to form a T with their bodies. He took the tip of that cock into his mouth because sure, the gag had been a kind of half-punishment for besting Flint’s score, but _Christ_ did he deserve to be rewarded, too. He remembered hearing the men talk about Long John Silver, the giant who stormed Nassau in the dead of night, but he had yet to witness his feats in actuality until today.

Flint had never seen anything so beautiful as Silver’s hand around those guns.

He wondered, at first, about the intensity he felt towards Silver, once this door had been opened. He’d felt the same way towards Miranda, and then Thomas, too. Able to keep his head until they’d made their way firmly into his life -- able to feel little, and then feel _everything_ all at once. But his relationship with the Hamiltons, at least until the end, had felt so innocent, though passionate and still illicit.

Nothing about how he felt towards John Silver felt innocent.  

But God --  as he sat on his knees and sucked that large cock down as far as he could, until it brushed the back of his throat and he groaned with abandon around the ache in his jaw -- it felt just as good.

He pulled back, let his bottom teeth graze the underside along the thickest vein, and his eyes flew open as he felt two fingers pressing against his mouth. He looked up at Silver, eyes wide, and let the two fingers in, and Silver pushed them in and out over and over. His mouth felt stretched and ridiculous but the way Silver’s breathing sped up made it worth it. He did the best he could to get the fingers wet without lifting off the tip of Silver’s cock, and it made him drool everywhere, saliva dripping down his chin and onto Silver’s thigh.

Just as suddenly, Silver removed his fingers and dragged them across his chest, collecting to the cooling come there, and stretched to the side just enough to stick both those fingers into Flint’s asshole.

Flint jerked, Silver’s cock dropping from his mouth as he groaned loudly. Silver pushed in and out at a steady rhythm. Flint’s cock wasn’t even hard but he pushed back on Silver, chasing that full feeling. It took him a few seconds to catch his breath before he grabbed Silver’s cock with one hand, rubbing the base as brought it back to his mouth to swallow it down.

All things being equal, he used his other hand to push a finger into Silver’s dripping asshole. Silver’s leg fell open to give him more space as his free hand reached up to cup the back of his head and keep him in place.

Then they were just thrusting hands and thrusting hips, speeding one thing up while slowing down another, completely out of sync in the perfect way to keep the other right on the edge of going insane. Neither could say anything, could only let out stifled wails and groans and curses. This was probably the longest amount of time they’d been in a room together without someone saying something.

As if by some unspoken word, they looked at each other at the same time: Silver stretching his fingers wide inside Flint, Flint sucking down hard on the tip of Silver’s cock. The sun had almost set and they’d lit no candles and in the gloom of the failing light Flint saw Silver’s eyes perfectly as Silver came with a sob, the scarf in his mouth soaking wet and full of holes from biting down.

Flint caught most of the come in his mouth but it was always too much, and it dripped down his neck and back down onto Silver’s cock.

Flint released it gently, let it fall to one side and rested his head on Silver’s thigh. His ass was still full of Silver’s fingers and he clenched around them, lest Silver had any ideas about removing them. He wasn’t hard yet but he was content to keep them there until he was, even if it was hours later.

Silver reached up and pulled the gag down, then ran his hand along the back of Flint’s head. They breathed.

“Missing the sound of my voice, were you?” He sounded clear as a bell after being silent in the room for so long.

“Fuck off,” Flint grumbled.

“You’re terribly confusing sometimes,” Silver said easily, lightly scratching Flint’s scalp. “One minute you’re gagging me quite aggressively, the next you’re begging to hear me speak.”

Flint lazily reached up and half-heartedly tried to slip the gag back on, a small smile on his lips as Silver twisted his head away, laughing.

Silver batted his hand away and sighed. “You’re an enigma, Captain. I find myself wanting to do the most despicable things around you, just to see what sort of reaction they cause.”

Flint wasn’t sure what to say to that exactly, mostly because he felt them same. “Well, now you know -- shoot two men to defend my honor, you get your cock sucked.”

"I’ll write it down,” Silver said, smiling. “Although I just have to breathe in your general direction to get you to suck my cock. That much is obvious.”

Flint wasn’t going to dignify that with a response, so the truth of the statement echoed quietly around the room.

Eventually, Flint closed his eyes and muttered, “We should have closed the windows. No doubt at least some of the men heard _something._ ”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Silver. “If they haven’t figured it out by now, they never will.”

Flint’s eyes shot open. “What?”

“Mmm,” said Silver, absently wiggling his fingers inside of Flint. “I suspect Billy told them all that first day. If he didn’t, they probably realized it on the second day.”

“What.”

Finally hearing something in his tone, Silver stilled. He looked down at Flint. “Oh, darling,” he said, sounding sympathetic, “don’t you know? You have all the subtlety of a fucking warship.”

…

" _What."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up one morning to find [Elle](http://ellelan.tumblr.com) AND [El](http://jadedbirch.tumblr.com/) fucking GANGING UP ON ME for more of this fic because they are ENABLERS OF THE MOST SHAMELESS SORT. 
> 
> I'm tapping out after this chapter to work on some other stuff but anyone feel free to use this ridiculous cliche to write more John "Biggus Dickus" Silver fanfic :*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [you are the queen and I am the wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953159) by [montespan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/montespan/pseuds/montespan)




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